


the name game

by goldengalaxies



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Consensual, Dark, Drabble, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not a light read sorry, POV Andrew Minyard, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, andrew’s shitty past, as fluffy as it can get with these two, the non-con and underage is not between andreil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengalaxies/pseuds/goldengalaxies
Summary: Andrew’s soulmark won’t make up it’s mind.(soulmark au where the name of your soulmate is tattooed onto your wrist. neil’s many names confuse the fuck out of andrew.)





	the name game

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :)
> 
> Be warned this is NOT a light read, trigger warnings may include: rape/non-con, underage, self-harm, cutting, violence. 
> 
> I think that’s it, but I’m not sure so if anyone thinks I should add a warning for something else, feel free to let me know. If you’re not sure about any thing jusy ask. 
> 
> Thanks!

When Andrew was seven, the name on his wrist said ‘Nathaniel Wesninski’. He had been an idealistic child, and took comfort in the name, seeing it as a symbol of a life he could have. To him, it was a sign that he’d get through the shitty life that the foster care system had so kindly provided for him. 

He’d stared at the scribble for more hours than he could count, focusing on it so blindly, trying to block out the horror of what his foster father was doing. It was all he looked at for those endless hours.

Andrew had been too young to understand fully what had been happening, but he knew that he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to be touched, but the man did it anyway. That name had been the only thing keeping him going. 

It was what gave him the strength to fight back, stabbing the man in the leg with a pair of scissors. He had gotten away, finally, and moved on to the next foster home. 

It had taken a while for someone to accept him, after what had happened to his previous foster carer, because, although he had gotten away, the police hadn’t believed Andrew’s truth about what had happened to him. 

They had said “I’m sure he never would have done that” and asked “Are you sure?” so many times that Andrew had given up trying to be believed. 

He was only seven, feeling scared and intimidated by the officers, and was easily manipulated. He almost believed them when they said it was just a product of an over-active imagination. 

But he couldn’t shake the memories from his head. He’d wake up in the night shaking all over, covered in sweat, uncontainable tears leaking from his eyes. And he knew, he knew, it wasn’t his brain making things up, but they didn’t believe him anyway. 

So he just pretended to accept their truth, seeing it for what it was: a cover-up for a rich, white, businessman with a wife and kid.

He hoped if Nathaniel had been with him, he would have believed him. 

*

When he was ten, it changed to ‘Abram Smith’. 

The first time had been a shock; Andrew had never heard of someone’s soul-name changing before and had done a double take when he had caught sight it. 

A scribble, still in an almost unintelligible chicken scratch, that held a new name. 

When he saw the change, Andrew let out a distressed yell, calling out to his foster mum for help. He’d ran downstairs in a panic, about to ask her for help. He didn’t cry, of course, but he felt wretchedly lost. He felt as if his only friend had been taken away. Nathaniel had been his lifeline in his previous house, and now he was gone. 

She hadn’t been much help, of course, being blind drunk and stumbling in the dark with a strange man. He hadn’t seen the man until it was too late, already running up towards her.

She’d given him a slap before he could even open his mouth and ordered him to go back up to his room. He’d sprinted up the stairs, the annoyed shouting of his foster mum following him up the stairs. 

As he lay in his bed, the sting of the handprint on his cheek keeping him awake, he thought about the new name. 

‘Abram Smith’. 

Had his soulmate died? Was that why he had gotten a new one? That was the most likely reason, Andrew had decided. 

Being only ten, Andrew hadn’t thought to question it more than that, believing that it been a simple misfortune. 

He shouldn’t worry about it, fate had given him someone new and he had never met Nathaniel. He couldn’t help but feel upset and angry at the change, however, as he didn’t want a new soulmate. 

*

When he was eleven, the mark read ‘Alex Clark’.

When he saw the mark had changed again, Andrew’s main feeling was resentment. He couldn’t be so unlucky that two of his soulmates had died, could he?

Maybe the universe just didn’t think he was a good match for these boys anymore. Andrew had changed from the boy he had been, the once lighthearted, romantic, idiotic child developed to someone who could see soulmates for what they were: a scam. 

Nathaniel Wesninski had probably been an innocent little kid with the perfect family. He’d likely grown up in a completely opposite environment than Andrew, surrounded by love and support. 

That’s when fate probably realised how big they’d fucked up. Nathaniel Wesninski wouldn’t be able to deal with someone like Andrew. 

And now the universe had decided that Abram Smith couldn’t either. 

*

During the year that he was twelve, the name changed a total of three times, going from Jean Thomas to Louis Dubois to Hugo Bernard.

Drake didn’t even notice. Andrew knew it was because he was focused on other parts of Andrew’s body.

Andrew just wondered why his new soulmates were suddenly all French. 

*

The name had kept to Hugo Bernard for about a month before changing again. 

By this point Andrew wondered if the universe was just fucking with him. Five names on and it was still changing. He’d never even heard of someone having more than one. People didn’t just get new names- they had one from birth. The name they were born with was the one they were stuck with for life, no exceptions. 

Except Andrew and he’d had five of them. But it didn’t even stop there.

It cycled through numerous names, and after a while, Andrew lost count. He forced himself to be indifferent to each name, knowing it would change eventually, so what was the point in getting attached? 

But he couldn’t help himself from searching up every single one. Somewhere common to Austria, particularly the southern region, then it moved into more traditional German names. It had even switched to ‘Hans Schmidt’ at one point.

Andrew tried to think too hard about why he was doing it. 

*

By the time he was fourteen, he had latched onto the theory that no person out there was enough to deal with him, and acted out accordingly. 

He decided that if no one wanted him- not Nathaniel Wesninski, or Jean Thomas, or Kurt Weber or any of the boys' names that had been scrawled across his wrist- then he didn’t want them either.

So he said a big, fuck you, to fate and cut the tattoo off of his skin. 

The cut had been deep, and angry, but hadn’t stung any more than the other times he had dragged a knife across his wrist, which Andrew was surprised at. 

He’d assumed it would hurt him more, a sort of defence mechanism against ruining something so sacred. But it didn’t. 

*

When he was fifteen, his soulmark returned with a new name. The reappearance of his mark over the lumpy scarring made his blood boil; he hated the sight of it. 

He wanted to live his own life- not one controlled by a stupid name on his wrist that wouldn’t stop changing. 

It meant nothing and he scoffed at people who thought it did. It was just a name, what did that matter to him? The idea that someone out there would love him, without question, made him feel sick.

Fuck fate. Andrew had never agreed to love a stranger, and Andrew knew that his soulmate, whoever he was, hadn’t either. The thought of someone giving up their life to Andrew, just because destiny had told them too, disgusted Andrew. 

Andrew didn’t want his soulmate to unquestioningly give Andrew his body, just because they were ‘meant to be’. That wasn’t consent; it was a poor imitation of it. 

So, in acts of rebellion against his soul-mark, he did whatever he wanted. He fought for his brother’s safety, not giving a second thought to Stefan Koubek (the latest name) when he got sent off to juvie. 

He wasn’t going to live his life according to a scribble on his body. Fuck that. 

Aaron needed saving from Drake’s promises and Andrew wasn’t going to be good just for some boy who was probably going to be someone new by the time the next month rolled around. 

*

Sixteen and Seventeen passed without much of a change (only one new name appeared; Chris Jones).

Andrew was out of juvie by sixteen and was living with his brother and Nicky by seventeen. He’d gotten into a fight with four guys at his new job at Eden’s twilight, meaning he now had to take medication daily and go to weekly therapy. 

He thought almost beating those men to death would change the name. Everything Andrew did, changed the fucking name so why didn’t this?

He’d felt the men’s blood on his knuckles and known they were close to death but had carried on. 

But ‘Chris Jones’ remained. 

*

Andrew had thought he had it all figured out, but clearly, there was so clear pattern to the change. 

After the name had remained for almost two years, he had done a lot more terrible things in a mission to get it to change. 

He’d thought that his misdeeds were the reason for the switching soul-marks, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

He tried his theory over and over and over, fucking whoever he liked, pulling his knives out whenever the fancy struck him, but nothing. 

‘Chris Jones’ wouldn’t move. 

*

When he was eighteen, it finally changed again. 

A few months after his birthday, he’d been in the process of taking off his armbands to shower, when he’d spotted the curve of an ‘N’ in the place of a ‘C’. 

His heart rate had spiked, remembering his first soul-mark. Nathaniel. 

But when he peeled it back it was yet another different name. 

Neil Josten.

Andrew decided to pay no mind to the new scribble, instead getting into the shower with his wrist bands on, hiding the mark from sight. 

(When Nicky had asked him why his arm was dripping wet through his jumper, Andrew had told him to fuck off.)

*

At nineteen, he hears the name spoken aloud for the first time. 

Him and Kevin are sat on Wymack’s couch, discussing a potential new recruit. Andrew had known about it, of course, as Kevin hadn’t shut the fuck up about it since he’d first found out they’d been looking for a new player. 

Kevin had told him they’d found a boy from Millport and that he and Wymack were flying out to meet him. Andrew had told him plainly that he would be going as well, which lead him to this moment. 

“We’ll go to Neil’s school and meet with his coach.” Wymack continues to speak, but Andrew’s head is cloudy. His thoughts feel slow and sloppy from the drugs, but he can detect a minor note of panic in his brain. He raises a brow, surprised by his own reaction. 

He’d decided long ago that being soulmates with someone didn’t guarantee any sort of relationship- if this Neil kid expected anything he’d have a knife to the gut without a second thought. 

Andrew decides to go anyway. The name would probably change on the flight over, knowing how fickle his mark was. 

And if it didn’t, well, he didn’t give a shit what this Josten thought. He’d go for Kevin and nothing else. 

*

They reach Millport and Neil Josten’s name is still stuck on Andrew’s arm. Andrew is for once glad for the drugs, as they dull any anxiety. 

Wymack goes ahead, leaving Kevin and Andrew to sit in the locker room. Andrew, already thoroughly bored from waiting, picks up a stick and twirls it around. 

He notices Kevin glare at him from out of the corner of his eye and smirks. It was so easy to wind him up. 

Kevin sees the smirk and speaks. “You refuse to pick up the racquet during practice, but now you want to play around?” His tone is scathing. 

Andrew laughs in reply. 

*

Josten turns out to actually be attractive, and even though Andrew gets the impression that he’s a complete moron, he wants to blow him. 

He’d be lying if he said he was intrigued by the boy, though. It’s not just physical attraction- Andrew is interested. 

He still doesn’t want to be with Josten in the romantic sense, but he can enjoy himself, can’t he? 

Besides, Josten didn’t seem to want anything either. As soon as he’d locked eyes on Andrew, he’d said his name, acknowledging the names on their wrists. It had been silent for a beat before Neil had spoken. “I don’t swing, and I’m not going to start now just because of some writing on my arm.” 

Ignoring Kevin’s choking in the background, he replied shortly. “Good. I don’t want that either.” 

Andrew had been even more intrigued by Neil at his response to meeting Andrew. No one he’d ever met had ever agreed with his idea that soulmates didn’t have to be together just because they were supposed to be. 

Whatever happened, Andrew was sure to be entertained. 

*

When Andrew was twenty, the name on his wrist remained. 

“Yes or no?” 

“Yes.” 

He leaned in to kiss Neil on the abandoned rooftop. “This isn’t because we’re soulmates, you know?”

“I know.” Neil looked at him, a soft spark flashing in his eyes. 

Andrew curled his lip in disgust. “It’s not because I like you either, Josten. This is nothing.” 

“You always said you wanted nothing.” Neil rebuked. 

“I hate you.” 

“No you don’t.” Even though Neil sounded confident, it sounded like ask for an answer. 

“This is nothing.” Andrew repeated, not wanting to acknowledge Neil’s half-question. “You’re nothing.”

“I’m your soulmate.” 

Andrew inhaled sharply. “That doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”

Neil held up his hands defensively. “I know. I know and I don’t owe you anything either. We both agreed fate doesn’t get to control us, that we’d chose for ourselves. But we’re here, together, out of choice. This is my choice. And it’s your choice and I won’t do anything without your permission. But this is not nothing.” 

Andrew took a drag of his cigarette, ignoring the clench of his heart. He felt relieved by Neil’s truthful answer, needing to hear the reassurance that Neil was here of his own volition.

“You’re not the first soulmate I’ve had, and you probably won’t be the last.” The words slipped out before Andrew had a chance to think it over properly. 

“What?”

“I’ve had more names than I can count.”

Neil seemed shocked. “But I’ve always had yours.”

Andrew felt as unnerved as Neil looked. How had Neil always had the same name when Andrew had had countless new ones?

“You’ve only been my name for a year.” 

They stared at each other wordlessly, letting the cigarettes burn where they sat between their intertwined fingers. 

Neil looked up suddenly. “What names did you have?” He asked slowly as if he was thinking hard. 

“Why would I tell you?” Andrew was pissed off by the sudden invasion. 

“Was it Nathaniel?” Andrew drew back in surprise. “Or Abram? Or Chris?”

“How’d you know that?” Andrew withdrew his hand from Neil’s quickly, noticeably shifting away from Neil.

“Because those were my names. When I was on the run, from my father.” 

Andrew didn’t like to be thrown off guard like this- it made him feel out of control- but Neil had managed to shock him twice in the span of this five-minute conversation. 

It was Neil the whole time? He soulmates hadn’t been dying or changing because Andrew was unworthy. It had been Neil the whole time. 

“Nathaniel?”

Neil flinched. “Don’t call me that. My name is Neil.” 

Andrew recognised a line being drawn and wouldn’t cross it. “Okay.” 

It was silent for a beat. Andrew took the opportunity to speak again. “Just because you’ve always been my name, doesn’t change anything. I meant what I said earlier, I’m not here because fate said so.”

“Me either.” 

“Good.” 

Neil took a puff of the cigarette, idly swinging his legs back and forth over the edge of the rooftop. Andrew could feel Neil’s gaze on his cheek. “What?”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.” 

Neil reached out a hand towards Andrew’s lap and gently picked up Andrew’s hand. For a heart-stopping moment, Andrew was half afraid Neil would ask to see the soul mark. But he didn’t, which Andrew was grateful for. He wasn’t here with Neil because of those blasted scribbles and he didn’t want Neil to turn their relationship into a soul bond.

But Neil simply took Andrew’s hand, squeezing gently and interlacing their fingers together. 

They stayed there until dawn, sharing a cigarette on the edge of the roof, holding hands in the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> ns i’m happy with the ending, but i’m so freaking tired so i might edit it tomorrow, idk yet.
> 
> i hope u enjoyed! let me know what you thought in the comments and drop a kudos if u liked! :) thanks!


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